Bridge Over the River Winter
by NeitherSparky
Summary: Story to bridge the gap between the movie and the cartoon.
1. Chapter One

**Bridge Over the River Winter**  
a _Beetlejuice_ fanfic  
by  
C. "Sparky" Read 

**_Chapter One_**

Lydia unpacked slowly. It had only been one day and already she missed her new friends Barbara and Adam, who, being ghosts, were forced to remain in the house in Winter River they were under contract to haunt. Lydia's stepmother, Delia, however, had decided after a scant two months that the novelty of living with ghosts had finally worn off and she had moved the family to the neighboring town, Peaceful Pines, in order to exist specter-free. Lydia, of course, had promised to visit her friends, and they had promised not to try to scare any prospective buyers away - so long as they were 'decent people,' as Barbara had put it. Adam, however, was convinced no one would want to buy a house designed the way Delia had left it. 

Unfortunately, the move did not give Lydia the chance to go to a new school - the Winter River Bridge was still within easy biking distance. Delia insisted that Lydia remain in attendance at Miss Shannon's School For Girls...an idea Lydia detested. It wasn't the private school uniforms that Lydia hated so much (although they could have used some improvement in Lydia's opinion). It was the company. Lydia made a face just thinking about Clare Brewster, the resident snob, and her band of trendy, slack-jawed followers. Besides that, Lydia just couldn't seem to make any friends at all there. 

"Lyd-iaaaa!" called Delia cheerfully, poking her head into the room, "Don't unpack _too_ much, dear! The decorators will be here any minute now!" She vanished from view. 

Lydia sighed. The worst thing about moving was that Delia insisted on bringing Otho's interior design - well, most of it - along with them. Delia intended to have this new house look pretty much identical to the one in Winter River. 

The girl rifled through the box's contents some more, until she finally found what she was looking for - her camera. Her ultimate opinion on the redecoration issue was: _As long as I still get a dark room._

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Beetlejuice unpacked quickly. Clothes, papers, and various junk flew in every direction as the ghost tossed things over his shoulders. He hated having to move, but, then again, he was so used to being evicted that he had this pack/unpack thing down to an art. He threw a handful of socks in the air. They landed opon the skull and shoulders of a skeleton who happened to poke his top half into the room. 

The skeleton sighed. "Be-eteljuice," he said with a heavy French accent, "you still do laundry the same as always." 

Beetlejuice barely glanced around. "I call it efficiency, Jacques," he responded. "Everyone else calls it sloppiness." He stood up. "Well?" he asked. 

Jacques pulled an envelope out of his culottes. "'Ere is your copy," the skeleton said. 

Beetlejuice took it. "Thanks buddy," he said, idly stuffing the envelope into a pile of trash. "I couldn't have moved into this dump without you." 

"Ah...you are welcome, I think." Jacques frowned at the room. "Are you going to keep this room this way?" 

"You know I am." 

Jacques nodded. "Just asking," he said. 

"This place is a mess!" complained a large rose-colored spider, carefully sidestepping a glob of a suspicious-looking substance as she walked in. "I knew it would be a bad idea to let Beetlejuice rent in the same building as us, Jacques! It's already starting to smell!" 

Beetlejuice sniffed and brightened. 

"Come on, Ginger," prompted Jacques, shooing the spider out of the room, "let us allow our new roommate to settle 'imself." The spider and skeleton left. 

Beetlejuice threw himself on the couch and stared at the ceiling. What a month he'd had! After that Maitland fiasco, and that shrunken head thing, he had been sent before the nastiest judge in the Neitherworld, the hanging Judge Mental. Mental had taken one look at Beetlejuice's record and basically dismissed the case in disgust. Instead of that turning the event in Beetlejuice's favor, however, his landlord had put him out on the street immediately. The ghost had been living out of his run-down car all month. It was only a stroke of luck that his old high-school buddy, Jacques, knew of a room to rent in his own building, and was even willing to cosign the rental agreement. All Beetlejuice needed to do now was dig the money out of his bank account. 

Beetlejuice thought it was hardly worth it. The building was a dilapidated structure on the edge of the Neitherworld Superhighway. Some Superhighway though - practically no one actually ever took that particular route past the building. 

_Well, at least it's quiet_, the ghost thought just before the stillness was broken by what sounded very much like a buffalo with its head stuck through a guitar. 

"What's that?" demanded Beetlejuice, rushing outside with his hands over his ears. He happened upon Jacques and Ginger, who were doing the same. 

"Be-eteljuice!" Jacques shouted back, wincing. "I think it is time you meet our neighbor!" 

Beetlejuice blinked. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Bridge Over the River Winter**  
a _Beetlejuice_ fanfic  
by  
C. "Sparky" Read 

**_Chapter Two_**

"Come _on_, Lydia," smirked Clare, when Miss Shannon had turned back to the chalkboard. "_You're_ brainy. Let me see your homework." 

"No, Clare." Lydia pulled a book over the papers on her desk. "You should have done your own homework." 

Clare sniffed. "Like, homework?" she scoffed. "Moi? But I simply _had_ to attend Jennifer's party, you know." 

Lydia opened the book and said nothing. 

"If you like, let me see your homework," Clare went on, "I just might give you a beauty tip or two - As if it would make any kind of difference." 

A few nearby girls, all Clare's cronies, giggled flatly. 

"Leave me alone, Clare," hissed Lydia from behind the book. 

"Why are you so pale, anyways?" Clare pressed. "Did you like, crawl out from under a rock?" 

Lydia practically slammed the book down. "Be quiet!" she warned. 

"Miss Deetz." Miss Shannon put her chalk down and turned to face the class. "Have you something to say?" 

The class stared at Lydia. 

"Um...no, Miss Shannon." 

Miss Shannon frowned and resumed writing on the chalkboard. 

"Way to go, _Lyd_-ia," taunted Clare. 

"Will you keep it down?" Prudence, a very short girl with very big glasses twisted in her seat to frown at Clare. "Some of us are trying to learn." 

"Yeah," agreed Prudence's gangly friend Bertha, "and some of us need it more than others!" 

Bertha and Prudence tittered while Clare turned red. 

Lydia went back to pretending to read the textbook. It looked like it was going to be another plodder of a day. She stared at the clock. It was ten in the morning. As she did, every day at this time, she made a wish: 

_Please let something interesting happen._

And, as usual, nothing did. 

Lydia slumped in her chair, defeated. That was it, then. She was destined to lead an entire year of this boredom. Resolving herself to wait for three, she stared out the window. 

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Beetlejuice slammed his palm down on the counter. "You can't do that to me!" he was shouting at the indifferent teller. "I've had an account with this bank for centuries!" 

"Well now you don't," replied the teller. "Next!" 

"But I have money in this bank!" protested Beetlejuice, not budging from his spot at the front of the line. "And I need it today!" 

The receptionist peered at the ghost over her glasses. "Sir," she said, "your account has expired. Next!" 

"Expired?" Beetlejuice was incredulous. "_Expired?_" 

"No need to repeat yourself. Next!" 

The ghost finally floated away from the teller in bewilderment. Expired? How does a bank account expire? His anger dissipated and was replaced by a tinge of worry. Now was _not_ the time to be unable to pay his rent - his other options were, well, nonexistent. He needed this place. 

He drove back to the building, taking the longest route possible. But when he finally got there, the reception was what he expected: Jacques, his old friend, smiling and waving cheerfully. 

Beetlejuice hated guilt. 

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Lydia hated gym. 

She frowned at the melee around her. Girls throwing softballs; girls throwing footballs; girls attempting to throw medicine balls. She exhaled loudly. 

"Hi Lydia," said Bertha as she and Prudence approached her. Prudence was limping. 

"Bertha!" exclaimed Lydia, "What happened to Prudence?" 

"Some of the other girls tried to use me as a volleyball," explained the short girl, adjusting her glasses. 

"Let me guess who," said Lydia. 

"Hey Lydia," called Clare, as she and two other girls walked over. "We're starting a game of field hockey. My team against your...team." She smirked. 

"You leave us alone!" demanded Prudence, tiny hands on diminutive hips. 

"Yeah!" agreed Bertha. "You don't play fair." 

"Fair?" Clare grinned. "You want to play fair? Like, what fun is that?" 

Miss Shannon blew her whistle. "All right, girls!" she shouted, clapping her hands sharply. "Pay attention! We have a visitor!" 

Everyone looked. 

Lydia thought she was going to faint. 

"Hellooo, Lydia!" chirped Delia, waving. 

There was a brief roar of laughter. 

"Oh, smooth, Lydia," laughed Clare. "Your mommy came to check up on you? That is like, sooo lame." 

"Mrs. Deetz has something to say," went on Miss Shannon. 

"Oh, yes!" beamed Delia, stepping forward. She was holding a small box. "I would like to _personally_ invite each and every one of you to a little _soiree_ at our humble home tomorrow night!" 

Clare blinked. "A party?" she asked. 

"Yes!" Delia opened the box. "I have your invites right here!" 

"Delia!" hissed Lydia, sidling up to her stepmom. "What are you doing?" 

Delia frowned. "I thought I told you to call me Mom," she said. "And I'm ensuring your popularity for years to come! Why, a party is just the way to earn your friends, you'll see...Everyone take one!" she trilled, distributing the invitations. "You too, Miss Shannon," she added, handing one to the headmistress. 

"Now girls, what do you say?" prompted Miss Shannon sternly. 

"Thank you Mrs. Deetz," chorused the girls. 

"Ta-ta!" Delia pranced off of the field. 

Lydia looked around. Most the girls were staring at their invitations as if they might morph into snakes at any minute. Clare and her friends were snickering derisively. Bertha and Prudence smiled. 

"We'll come to your party, Lydia," said Bertha. 

Clare, followed by her cronies, shoved the tall girl a little as she faced Lydia. "Like, you wouldn't catch me dead at this little so-called party of yours," she sneered. "Ta-ta!" she mocked, walking away. 

Lydia drooped. Swell. 


	3. Chapter Three

**Bridge Over the River Winter**  
a _Beetlejuice_ fanfic  
by  
C. "Sparky" Read 

**_Chapter Three_**

Beetlejuice moped on the couch. Avoiding telling Jacques that he did not have the rent money had sapped a lot of his creative energy, and he dreaded the time when he'd have to fess up. Jacques had cosigned the rental agreement and if the skeleton did not come up with the extra money himself he was sure to be evicted. And, thought the ghost downheartedly, part-time fitness instructors don't make that much. 

Beetlejuice pounded a fist into his palm. He had to come up with that money, and fast! He thought hard, ignoring the small insects that cried out in pain as they evacuated his smoking scalp. Where would be a likely place to... 

He had it! The Outerworld was full of money and, thankfully to the ghost, full of saps willing to part with it. Now if he could only get out there... 

That was the tough part. Someone had to say his name three times. And boy did his parents give him a weird name! Sure it was fun at parties, but, it was always so hard to get someone else to say it when he couldn't even say it himself! Unless... 

Beetlejuice brightened. Yes! Find someone who _already_ knew his name! He jumped up. There was only one person who fit that criteria who he would actually want to see again: That cute pale thing, Lydia. He shook his head when he thought of her. Cute, sure, but, marriage? He must have been swept up in the heat of the moment or something. He could only hope his mother never heard about that. Oh well. 

The ghost floated over to a mirror hung in the corner and thought about the house in Winter River. He saw the living room. There was something wrong with it...What could it be? 

Oh. There was no furniture. And out the window, stuck into the lawn, was a realtor's _For Sale_ sign. 

She was gone! Beetlejuice felt a surge of disappointment. _Well of course she's gone,_ a voice in his head said. _Look what you tried to do!_

Beetlejuice steeled himself. No, he wasn't going to feel guilty. Feeling guilty twice in one year, let alone twice in one day, was not permissible. 

Not willing to give up on the human girl just yet, Beetlejuice shifted his attention to other rooms of the house: the sitting-room, the kitchen, the study. All were empty. Then he remembered the attic. That's where he had met her in the first place. 

So Beetlejuice slipped between worlds and materialized, one inch tall, in the attic, in the miniature representation of Winter River which the ghost was relieved to find was still on its table. Hearing voices, he ducked behind a green-painted sponge bush in the Park. 

"It's been cloudy lately," Barbara was remarking to her husband. "It looks like it might rain." 

"Uh huh," replied Adam, totally absorbed in some project involving balsa wood and Elmer's glue at the workbench. 

"I'm just saying," Barbara went on, "that I hope Lydia remembers her coat - " She stopped, much to Beetlejuice's disappointment. 

Barbara gazed out the attic window. "She's here!" she said. 

Adam actually looked up. "Good!" he exclaimed, setting his Exact-o knife down. 

Beetlejuice watched as Barbara waved through the window. "She's coming in," she told Adam, and walked to the attic door. 

A minute later Lydia knocked and Barbara let her in. Lydia and the deceased couple exchanged pleasantries, then Lydia handed Adam a small brown paper bag, explaining that it was the 'supplies' he needed. He thanked her and put the bag on the worktable. 

"How's school?" he asked the girl. 

Lydia made a grunting sound. "Awful," she said. 

"Oh, what happened?" asked Barbara. 

"Delia is trying to ruin my life," returned Lydia, walking over to the model. Beetlejuice ducked down even further. "She showed up at school today and invited everyone to our house for a party." 

"Well that's kind of..." Barbara glanced at Adam. "Um...nice." 

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Yeah right," she said. "If anyone _does_ come it will be to laugh at me." 

Adam put a hand on Lydia's shoulder. "I'm sure your stepmother is just trying to help you make friends," he assured her. "You should try harder to socialize, anyways." 

"Thanks for your support." Lydia picked up the model of the jungle gym in the Park and pretended to examine it. She sighed and put it down next to Beetlejuice, who impersonated a fountain for good measure. "Anyways I'd better get going - It's been getting dark early." 

And after promising to come back soon, Lydia left. 

Quickly, Beetlejuice slipped back between worlds and hid in one of the reflectors on Lydia's bicycle. The girl didn't notice a thing all the way back to her house in Peaceful Pines. 


	4. Chapter Four

**Bridge Over the River Winter**  
a _Beetlejuice_ fanfic  
by  
C. "Sparky" Read 

**_Chapter Four_**

Charles met his daughter as she wheeled her bike into the front yard. 

"Lydia," he said, " I thought we discussed your disappearing after school." 

"I'm sorry Father," said Lydia quietly, parking her bicycle in the garage. "I must have...forgotten." 

Charles shook his head. "Now Pumpkin," he told her, "this area may seem safe but we haven't been here long enough to be sure. Your mother and I worry about you." 

Lydia brushed past Charles on her way to the house. "Delia isn't my mother," she reminded him. 

"Lydia - " 

But Lydia had closed the door behind her. 

Beetlejuice, now a striped sapling, harrumphed loudly. "Kids," he remarked. 

"You said it," agreed Charles, then looked around to see who exactly he was speaking to. 

Everything looked normal. 

Charles sighed and scratched his head. "Time to go inside," he mused to himself, and did. 

Lydia sat sullenly in a chair in front of her dresser. She hadn't meant to be depressed around the ghosts back in the attic, but the problem was on the table: she didn't have any luck making friends. The only people she ever seemed to communicate with well were - 

"Yo babes," said a voice. 

Lydia looked up. Lounging in her vanity mirror was a very familiar ghost in a black-and-white striped suit. 

She screamed and started out of her chair. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, grabbing up the chair and waving it. 

"Woah!" cried Beetlejuice, sitting up. "You wouldn't want seven years bad luck now, would you?" 

"Get out of there!" commanded Lydia, waving the chair even more. 

The ghost threw his arms wide. "I'd love to, babes!" he told her. "But, you know what you have to say, first." 

For one insane second Lydia thought the ghost meant she had to say _please_, then she remembered. 

"Forget it," she hissed. 

"Oh, come on," whined Beetlejuice. "After I came all this way just to see you! And after I went to all that work to find out where you live - You didn't even leave a forwarding address or anything..." 

As Lydia listened to the ghost ramble on, she almost screamed out for her father, before realizing what a useless gesture that would be. She resolved to handle this alone. Besides, as long as she didn't say his name three times, his power would be limited...she thought. 

"Look," she said, "I never want to see you again. Now go back to the Land of the Dead, or wherever it is that you came from." She put the chair down resolutely and sat in it, facing the opposite direction. 

Beetlejuice was surprised and, though he'd be reluctant to admit it, hurt. Snubbed! He'd been snubbed! "Now, listen babes - " he began. 

Lydia suddenly had had enough. She sprang out of her chair and, grabbing the ghost's lapels, pulled him partway through the mirror. "I am not your babes!" she roared. "I told you to leave!" 

Beetlejuice stared at her for a few seconds then disappeared with a soft pop. 

Lydia sank back into the chair. One thing was clear: this day wasn't getting any better. She decided to go to bed quickly before it got any worse. 

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

"You didn't come down for dinner last night, Lydia dear," Delia remarked unnecessarily as she placed a plate of food before her stepdaughter. "I hope you're feeling all right - we have your little party tonight." 

Lydia picked up a fork and poked at the oddly-sculpted...stuff on her plate. Charles looked concernedly over his newspaper for a moment then went back to the advertisements. 

Delia clasped her hands and danced around the kitchen. "I have _soo_ many plans for this party, Charles!" she exclaimed. "Imagine it: Silver lame on the ceiling! And, paisley ice cubes for the punch!" 

Charles lowered the newspaper, but looked at his daughter instead of the person speaking to him. "Lydia," he began, "is it because of the gh - " He paused. "Because of the Maitlands?" 

Lydia threw down her fork. "Why did we have to move?" she asked her parents. 

Delia stopped twirling and stood behind her husband. "Charles," she admonished him, "we agreed not to speak about those...people, anymore. We're in a new house in a _new_ town! So get used to it," she finished shortly and left the room. 

Lydia and Charles looked at eachother. 

"I'm sorry, pumpkin," Charles said at last. 'But you heard your mother. Now don't you think it would be best to...to leave that whole messy ghost business behind us?" 

Lydia was silent. 

"So." Charles changed the subject. "What are you doing in school today?" 

"We have to talk about our hobbies," Lydia answered. "I'm taking my camera." 

"Well, good!" exclaimed her father. "When everyone sees how talented you are, they'll all want to be your friends!" 

Lydia made a face. "Do you really think they'll like _this?_" she asked, holding up one of her photos. 

Charles recoiled. "Uhhh," he said, trying to retain his fatherly composure. "Well...sure, honey!" he said at last. "Who wouldn't love...that." 

Lydia stood and gathered up her things. "I'm going to be late," she said just before leaving. 


	5. Chapter Five

**Bridge Over the River Winter**  
a _Beetlejuice_ fanfic  
by  
C. "Sparky" Read 

**_Chapter Five_**

At ten o'clock, Beetlejuice tried again. 

It was obvious to him now what he had done wrong last time. Lydia was a female and females always wanted men to be vulnerable. So this time, he had to be more vulnerable. It was very simple really - and he couldn't afford to give up now. 

When he skipped to the Outerworld, he found himself as a worm in an apple on Miss Shannon's desk. Behind him, Miss Shannon was droning on about synonyms and antonyms. In front of him, was the class, including - 

Her! He'd found her! Now if he could only get her alone... 

"Can anyone give me an antonym for 'sharp'?" Miss Shannon asked the class. 

Clare raised her hand. "Like, how about, 'last year'?" 

Miss Shannon frowned. "'Last year'?" 

"Yeah, like, either your clothes are like, sharp, or they're totally last year." 

The class snickered. 

"Well, I suppose that's one possible answer." Miss Shannon turned back to the board. "Now, Bertha, can you give me a synonym for - Aaacckk!" she screamed as a striped worm crawled out of the apple on her desk. 

Bertha frowned. "Uh, let's see...'Eeek!', 'Aaarghh!', 'Waaaagh!'..." 

Miss Shannon had jumped up on her chair, which of course only brought her closer to the offending creature. "Get it away! Get it away!" she screamed. "It's slimy and disgusting!" 

Beetlejuice drew himself up proudly. 

Lydia, still wearing her camera around her neck, stood up. "I'll get it," she said. She stepped up to the desk, gingerly guided the worm into one hand, and went out into the yard. 

"There you go," she said, putting her hand to the ground. 

But instead of crawling off into the grass, as Lydia had expected, the worm turned to her and spoke. 

"Hey babes!" it called in a somewhat squeaky voice. "Don't you recognize me?" 

Lydia yelped in surprise and jumped backwards into a bench. She miraculously managed to sit on it rather than topple it over. Somehow, Beetlejuice remained on her palm the whole time. 

"It's you!" she said at last. 

"You got it, babes!" returned the ghost. "Listen, hear me out - " 

"No!" shouted Lydia. "You try to kill my father, then you try to - ugh - marry me...What do you want now?" 

Beetlejuice would have shrugged if he had had any shoulders. "I just want a second chance, dollface," he said. "Let me out of this crazy Neitherworld and I'll apologize properly!" 

"Not a chance." Lydia started to put him down. 

"Wait a minute!" cried the ghost. "You gotta let me out! I - " He remembered his plan. "I...I'm suffering in here," he moaned, lying down in Lydia's palm. "Its torture! I...I can't possibly go on!" He writhed a bit for effect. 

"You're suffering?" Lydia's tone had changed. Now it was edged with pity. 

Beetlejuice knew pity when he heard it. "Oh!" he cried. "The horror!" he covered his eyes with the end of his segmented tail. "You wouldn't believe what it's like in here! You've got to help me!" 

Lydia sighed heavily. "Well..." How much harm could the ghost do? She knew how to send him back if he got out of hand. "I suppose...I suppose I could." 

Beetlejuice had to struggle not to show his exuberance. "Oh, thank you," he simpered. 

Lydia looked around. Sure there was no one nearby, she took a deep breath. 

"Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice.." 

Lydia paused, wondering if she had lost her mind. 

"Come on!" shrieked the ghost. "Oh, uh, I mean, please hurry! Torture, you know." 

Lydia sighed. 

"Beetlejuice." 

There was darkness. 

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Lydia sat up and opened her eyes. Why did she feel so strange back there? 

And more importantly, why was the sky purple? 

"Oh, man," whined a voice nearby. "You know I hate when this happens." 

"What's going on?" Lydia looked around. Sitting on the pavement next to her was Beetlejuice, who was frowning at their surroundings. 

Their surroundings! It was completely different from anything Lydia had ever seen. It was a street, that much was clear, but the buildings were cocked at odd angles and the street itself was hillier than any even San Francisco could boast. And coming down that street, right for them, was what appeared to be a misshapen Mac truck. 

Lydia screamed. 

"Woah, no need to get all vocal - " Beetlejuice saw the truck. "Woah!" he said again, a bit more loudly. "One side!" He grabbed Lydia and sprang off of the street just in time. The truck roared by. 

"What - Who - Where - ?" 

Beetlejuice frowned at Lydia. "Is that all you can say?" he demanded. "Swell. I'm never going to get to the Outerworld now!" He turned and began floating away. 

Lydia stared after him. "Out - Outerworld?" she asked. 

"Yeah, you know, where you come from. Stupid stinking Neitherworld..." 

Lydia had to walk to keep the ghost within earshot. "This is the Neitherworld?" she wondered aloud. 

"Yeah." Beetlejuice glanced around. "It's a pit, isn't it?" 

Lydia paused. "But you aren't suffering," she said. 

"Huh?" 

Lydia took a breath. "I was expecting something out of Dante," she said. "You said you were suffering back there." 

"Oh - oh yeah, that. Nah." 

"So you lied to get me to let you out?" 

"Hey, I had to!" the ghost defended himself. "I tried asking." 

"Asking?" Lydia was incredulous. "You call invading my room asking?" 

"Well - " 

"Take me out of here," Lydia demanded. 

Beetlejuice stopped floating along. "Take you out?" he repeated. "Now, you know I can't get out," he reminded her. 

Lydia gasped. He was right! What if she couldn't get out either? 

"Try saying my name again," suggested the ghost. "Maybe that'll work." 

"Maybe?" 

Beetlejuice shrugged. "Hey, that whole name-summoning/banishing thing can be kinda fickle sometimes," he said. "Sometimes I get sent in or out, and sometimes its the summoner. Hey I didn't design the system. But if you're in such a hurry to leave, why don't you try it?" 

Lydia considered. Perhaps she didn't want to leave so fast... 

"I think," she said at last, "I think I'll stay a while. And get some pictures." She put a hand on her camera, and walked past Beetlejuice. 

"Well - hey!" said the ghost, floating up alongside her. "You want to see the sights? I could show you around!" 

"Forget it," said Lydia, brushing past him. "I'll show myself around." She just couldn't get over her distrust of the ghost. 

"But this place can be kind of tricky to a nonlocal - " 

"I'll be fine - " 

Lydia was interrupted by a cry of protest: "Watch your step!" 

The girl looked down. A flat disc, which appeared to actually be a man, was imbedded in the pavement. 

"What's that?" she asked in wonder. 

"That's a manhole," answered Beetlejuice, floating at her side once again. "You'd better - " 

"Hi! Hi! Hi!" called a flaming something on the corner. 

"And what's that?" 

"A fire hi-drant." 

Lydia gaped. "Deadly vu!" she breathed. "This place is so...literal!" 

"Yeah," Beetlejuice grumped. "Literally boring." 

Lydia snapped pictures. "I wish I had brought some more film," she lamented. 

Beetlejuice took her arm. "Don't waste your film on this stuff," he told her. "Fly with me - I'll show you the really good parts of the Neitherworld!" 

Lydia bit her lip. As much as the ghost bothered her, her photographer's eye was seeing many, many interesting subjects here. If Beetlejuice knew where there was some better stuff... 

"All right," she said at last. "Let's go." 


	6. Chapter Six

**Bridge Over the River Winter**  
a _Beetlejuice_ fanfic  
by  
C. "Sparky" Read 

**_Chapter Six_**

"Yes, this is Delia Deetz...what?" Delia frowned at the phone. "Lydia's what?" 

"Lydia's disappeared," Miss Shannon, on the other end, said. "It was during first period. She went outside and did not come back." 

"Oh dear." Delia put a hand to her mouth. "You don't suppose she...ran away?" 

"I was hoping you might be able to answer that," responded Miss Shannon. "Has there been any trouble at home?" 

"Well, not really...although I believe my husband may have been reprimanding her for not coming directly home after school." 

"Then that is your culprit," said the headmistress matter-of-factly. "Trust me, Mrs. Deetz, I have worked with young girls for many, many years! They get rebellious when denied their freedom." 

"Oh dear," said Delia again. "What should be done?" 

"You must discipline her," answered Miss Shannon sternly. "As soon as she returns home, confine her to her room and let her out for nothing but school. She will learn that a little freedom is better than none at all." 

"Yes," said Delia flatly. "I suppose you're right. Thank you so much for calling." 

"Good day." 

Delia hung up. Lydia? Run away? She frowned at the thought. Had Charles really been that stern with her? It was difficult to imagine Charles stern with anyone. Still, it wasn't likely that Lydia might have been snatched from as secure an area as the grounds outside Miss Shannon's school, so she must have run away. Delia sighed. She had until whenever Lydia decided to come home to decide on what to tell Charles. And, to finish decorating for the party, which in Delia's opinion was shaping up rather nicely. The plans she had sketched out were working out wonderfully! This would definitely be a party to die for. 

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Lydia snapped pictures. This place was amazing! The contrast between light and dark, the sharp edges, the tasteful curliques...This was her idea of Subject Heaven. 

"What's that?" she asked, pointing down. 

Beetlejuice paused in his hunt for airbourne insects to look. "That's the Neitherworld's biggest nightclub," he said. "Wanna go?" 

"Um...don't you have to be over 21?" 

Beetlejuice had to laugh. "Nah," he said. "no one cares about age here, I mean, when you're dead you're dead." 

"But _I'm_ not dead." 

"Oh." Beetlejuice thought. "Then, maybe you shouldn't drink anything. But come on, it'll be fun." He took her wrist and they flew down out of the Neitherworld sky and through the nightclub doors. 

"Wow," commented Lydia. "This place is really jumping." She had to grab a table to keep from falling over as the building hopped rhythmically up and down. 

Beetlejuice nodded. "Yeah, its great." Then he frowned at Lydia. 

"What? What's the matter?" 

"Your clothes, babes!" Beetlejuice cried. "That private school look has got to go!" 

Lydia shrugged helplessly. "Well, I don't have any other clothes with me!" 

Beetlejuice stroked his chin and looked around. Finally his gaze rested on the table Lydia clung to. It was covered with a red cloth with a spiderweb design on it. "That's perfect!" he said, and with a wave of his hand, Lydia's uniform was replaced with a black leotard, and the tablecloth swept over her until it became a shroud, draped over her shoulders. Her hair magically tied itself into a gravity-defying topknot. 

Lydia looked into a mirrored wall at herself. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "I love it! It's so...gothic!" 

Beetlejuice buffed his fingernails on his suit. "Yeah," he said. "If you want to be seen with me, you gotta be ghastly. Come on, babes!" He seized her wrist once again and hauled her into the crowd. 

"It's Lydia!" she shouted. 

"What?" the ghost shouted back. It was becoming hard to hear over the pounding music. 

"My name is Lydia!" 

"Oh! Right, Lydia! Hey! Do you want something to eat? This place has got a great spread! Spiders, cockroaches..." 

"No thanks!" Lydia took a hold of the ghost's sleeve. She didn't want to risk losing her guide in the tightly-packed throng. "I'd like to take more pictures!" 

"You got it!" Beetlejuice continued to pull Lydia along until they were just below the stage where the band was playing. "How about those freaks?" 

"Perfect!" Lydia focused her camera on the bizarre members of the band. 

The bassist stopped playing and glowered down at the pair. "Hey!" he boomed. "Did someone just call us freaks?" 

"Who called us freaks?" asked the lead guitarist, not pausing in his own playing. 

"It was dose two, I hoid 'em!" answered the drummer, a skinny, nervous-looking fellow with wild hair. He pointed a drumstick at Beetlejuice and Lydia. "Dey called us freaks!" 

The lead guitarist stopped playing when he realized he and the keyboardist were playing all alone. "Hey!" he shouted. "What gives?" 

"Um, maybe we'd better go, Beetlejuice," commented Lydia. 

Beetlejuice turned around. The crowd had stopped dancing and were shouting angrily at the lack of music. There didn't seem to be an easy way out. 

The keyboardist, meanwhile, kept playing. 

"Let's squish 'em!" cried the drummer enthusiastically. 

"Yeah," agreed the bassist, swinging his guitar over his head like a warclub. "Squish!" 

"Um, Beetlejuice..." Lydia backed up into the ghost. 

"Hey! Yous two got a problem?" the lead guitarist demanded, leaning over the edge of the stage. "We're tryin' to do a set here!" 

The crowd was getting uglier. 

The keyboardist played merrily. 

"Beetleju - " 

The ghost interrupted Lydia swiftly. "One more time, and one or both of us is out of here," he reminded her. 

"I don't think that would be such a bad idea!" 

"It would be if it were me and not you." 

Lydia slumped. He was right. "So what do we do?" 

"I'll take care of this." Beetlejuice stepped onto the stage. "One side, Jethro," he told the lead guitarist, taking his instrument and booting him into the crowd. 

"Hey!" protested the bassist. 

"You'll pay for that!" swore the drummer. 

The keyboardist kept playing. 

Beetlejuice slung the guitarstrap over his shoulder. "I call this," he began, "A Real Show Stopper." And he slammed out a riff. 

Lydia covered her ears. When she uncovered them, the room was silent. For a moment she thought she was deaf, until Beetlejuice spoke. 

"Thank you, thank you very much," he was saying to the crowd, which, along with the band members, had become as still as statues. 

"How - How did you do that?" Lydia marveled. 

Beetlejuice tossed the guitar to the floor of the stage. "I just gave them a little Juice," he explained. "Let's fly." 

Lydia thought that was a marvelous idea. 


	7. Chapter Seven

**Bridge Over the River Winter**  
a _Beetlejuice_ fanfic  
by  
C. "Sparky" Read 

**_Chapter Seven_**

"Lydia is going to be in such trouble," smirked Clare to her friends at lunch. "Disappearing like that. I'll bet she like, went to the prom or something with that worm." 

Her friends giggled. 

"That party tonight is going to be such a freakshow," commented Jennifer, twirling her brown hair. "Maybe we should like, call the circus." 

"Or like, maybe the dogcatchers," added Brenda. 

"Wait a minute," interrupted Clare. She smiled wickedly. "We should go to her party." 

Brenda stiffened. "Go? To the Deetz house?" 

"What about Corey's party?" Jennifer protested. 

Clare held up a hand. "We'll go there first," she said. "And we'll tell the boys all about Lydia's primitive little get-together. When they go and see what a loser Lydia is..." 

"She'll never get a date in this town!" Jennifer and Brenda finished together. 

"Clare, you're such a genius," said Jennifer. 

Clare produced a mirror from somewhere and examined her hair. "I know," she said. 

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

"That's it," said Lydia at last. "Only one picture left." 

Beetlejuice glanced over at her. "That's all?" he asked, disappointed. He knew that once Lydia was done taking pictures, she'd want to go home. And, he hadn't had this much fun in ages. Besides, the girl was providing a very good reason not to go home and face the music - a predicament about which, by the way, he had confided in her. There didn't seem to be much harm in that. 

"I'd better get home soon," Lydia voiced the ghost's fear. "It must be getting late, and I'll have some explaining to do." She looked around. "I need to take one more picture..." 

Beetlejuice leaned dejectedly on the railing of the terrace overlooking the Neitherworld Ocean. 

"I know, how about one of you?" 

"Huh?" Beetlejuice looked up in surprise. 

"Yeah," said Lydia, advancing the film. "I guess I'd like to have a picture of the weirdest tour guide in the Neitherworld." 

The ghost peered at Lydia curiously. "You mean it?" 

Lydia shrugged. "I guess you're an okay guy," she answered, "when you're not trying to force me to take your last name." 

"Oh!" said Beetlejuice. He had clean forgotten about apologizing, which he hated doing but really felt he should in this case. "Listen, Lydia - " he began, but was rudely interrupted by a tremendous roar. 

"Beetlejuice!" screamed Lydia. "Behind you!" 

Beetlejuice turned around - and immediately wished he hadn't. 

The Sandworm coiled in the water opened its fearsome jaws and roared again. 

"Do something!" cried Lydia, grabbing onto Beetlejuice's arm. "Fly us out of here! Zap that thing! Anything!" 

But the ghost seemed frozen with terror. He feebly made a few weak noises. 

The Sandworm licked its enormous chops greedily, dripping saliva into the ocean. 

Lydia was at a loss. The monster was huge and, without Beetlejuice's magic, there seemed to be no hope. 

Suddenly, the Sandworm lunged forward, obviously intending to make a meal out of the odd-looking pair. 

Almost instinctively, Lydia snapped a picture of the attacking beast. 

Blinded by the flash, the Sandworm squealed and retreated into the ocean. 

Beetlejuice shakily leaned on the railing. 

Lydia tugged on his lapels. "Are you all right?" she asked, concerned. "That was a ...a Sandworm, wasn't it?" Barbara and Adam had showed her the chapter in the Handbook For the Recently Deceased that dealt with Sandworms. Sandworms were infernal beasts that roamed the outer reaches of the Neitherworld looking for stray souls to feast on. Beetlejuice obviously was very disturbed by them. 

"Uh...yeah, sure I'm..." The ghost shook himself. "I'm swell." He looked at Lydia. "You'd better get going." 

Lydia lowered her eyes. "Oh," she said. "Yeah." 

"Just uh...do the spell until everything is straightened out," the ghost told her, turning away. He was no longer in the mood to go scheme-chasing in the Outerworld. He would have to fess up to Jacques. 

Lydia nodded, and said the words. 

With a flash, they were both standing in the Deetzs' own back yard. 

"I guess I should try again, to send you back," said Lydia. 

But before she could, they heard a voice: 

"Lydiaaaa! Is that you, dear?" 

Lydia jumped. "It's Delia!" she cried. "Um...hide!" 

Beetlejuice blinked, then turned into a striped squirrel and climbed swiftly into a tree. 

Delia rounded the corner of the house. "Lydia!" she gasped. "There you are! I've been _so_ worried! I - where _did_ you get those clothes?" 

"Well, I - " 

"I just _love_ them! They're so...unique!" 

Lydia sighed. At least they were off to a good start. 

"Lydia, when Miss Shannon called and told me that - " 

"Miss Shannon called?" Lydia became worried again. 

"Yes, to tell me that you had vanished!" 

_Oh no_, thought Lydia, _here it comes..._

Delia clasped her hands together. "I've been agonizing over this all afternoon!" she went on. "Just thinking of what your father would say when he found out that you had run off..." 

Lydia swallowed. Her father! This could devastate him. He might blame himself. Something like this could send him straight back to the psychiatrist. 

"Then I decided not to tell him at all." 

"Um...Beg pardon?" 

Delia bobbed her head. "That's right dear," she said. "We'll just make this our little secret. Now, get on inside, your party will be starting any minute!" 

Lydia nodded numbly and walked past Delia to the front door. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the striped squirrel jump to an open window and out of sight. She decided to trust him for now and went inside. 

She stared. 

Delia appeared behind her. "Aren't the decorations marvelous?" she twittered. "I'm especially proud of the pink fog! Very surreal!" 

Lydia sighed. "I'm going to be in the basement," she said, and went downstairs. 

"I'll call you when your little guests arrive!" Delia chirped after her. 

Beetlejuice, who was hiding in a particularly bizarre sculpture, watched Delia get back to fussing over the decorations and party snacks. She flitted back and forth like some kind of red-crested hummingbird. The ghost shook his head. 

Just then, Charles got home. 

"I'm home!" he announced himself. "I - Good _heavens_ what happened in here?" 

"Isn't it _wonderful?_" Delia asked him, dancing by with some streamer. "Why, people will be talking about this party for years to come!" 

"I wouldn't be surprised," muttered Charles. "I'm going to go relax." He went into the study and shut the door. 

Beetlejuice teleported out of the room. 

There was a muffled scream, followed by a thump. 

"Well he's relaxed now," commented Beetlejuice to no one in particular, teleporting back into the living room. This time he posed as the punchcup carousel on the buffet table. 

The doorbell rang. 

"Lydiaaa!" called Delia, skipping to the door, "your first guests are here!" 

"I'll be up in a minute!" Lydia called back from the basement. 

Delia opened the door and greeted Bertha and Prudence. 

"Come in, girls!" chirped Delia. "You're the first to arrive, but I'm sure there will be many more shortly." 

Bertha and Prudence glanced at eachother as they entered the house. They both hoped Delia was right - they didn't want to see Lydia stood up by the whole school. 

"Help yourselves to punch," Delia went on, closing the door. "Lydia will be up soon." 

"Thank you, Mrs. Deetz," said Prudence politely. She picked up a cup. 

"Hey!" yelled the striped carousel. "Don't get so grabby!" Then, having an idea, he teleported away. 

Prudence screamed and clung to Bertha. 

"What is it?" asked Bertha, irritated at being interrupted from her busy task of eating potato chips. 

"It - It - " Prudence pointed at the now-normal carousel. "It talked to me!" 

Bertha became much more interested. "Cool! Animatronics! This must be a pretty high-tech house!" 

The doorbell rang again. It was some of the girls from school. A few minutes later, more arrived, then more. It seemed that no one really minded going to a party at Lydia's house after all. Even Miss Shannon came, bearing a bottle of wine. 

"For the aftermath," she confided to Delia. 

"Lydiaaa!" Delia shouted through the basement door. "Hurry up! Everyone's asking for you!" 

Lydia emerged from the basement with a stack of photographs. "Here I am," she said. She looked around at the crowd. "Wow." 

"Hi Lydia!" chorused two voices. 

Lydia smiled. "Hi Prudence. Hi Bertha," she said. "Is - " she glanced around. "Is Clare here?" 

Bertha shook her head. "Nope," she said. 

"I'm sure she's much too busy trying to disengage her nose from the sky to come," was Prudence's answer. 

"Helloooo, Lydia," said an all-too-familiar smug voice. 

"Oh no..." Lydia turned around to see Delia letting Clare and her friends in. "Did the mall get too boring for you, Clare?" she asked. 

"No," answered the blonde girl. "We just were wondering how the poorer people of Peaceful Pines lived." 

Jennifer and Brenda burst into laughter. 

"And," went on Clare, "we like, brought some of our friends. I knew you wouldn't mind." 

"Oh dear," fretted Delia. "I hope there's enough canapés." She disappeared into the kitchen, presumably to make more. 

Several boys Lydia's age wandered through the front door. "So Clare," one said. "Where's this like, total loser girl you were talking about?" 

Lydia was indignant. 

"Right there," said Clare, pointing. 

"Woah," said another boy. "Cool clothes." 

All the boys marveled at how cool Lydia's outfit was. 

Clare's jaw dropped. "Oh yeah?" she said. "Well then, look at this lame-o party! I mean, silver lame, gag me." 

"Hey!" shouted a boy. "Canapés!" 

The boys rushed the buffet table. 

Lydia smiled at Clare, who only planted her hands on her hips and pouted. "Have a nice time, Clare," said Lydia, and she walked away. 

As soon as Lydia had disengaged herself from the crowd, she began searching. Where had that ghost gotten to? 

The doorbell rang. 

Delia frowned. "That's odd, she said, counting the invitations. "Everyone seems to be here..." She opened the door. 

"Hello Mrs. Deetz," said the blonde girl on the doorstep. "I hope I'm not late?" She held out an invitation. 

Delia took it. Had she miscounted? "No...Come right in - " She read the invitation. "Betty." 

The blonde girl stepped inside and waved cheerfully at Lydia. 

Lydia stared in shock. 

"Miss Shannon?" said Bertha to the headmistress. "Have you ever seen her before?" 

"No," replied Miss Shannon, adjusting her glasses. "But she is wearing one of our school uniforms." 

'Betty' sidled up to Lydia. "It wouldn't be a party," 'she' said secretively, "without Betty Juice, now would it?" 

Lydia exhaled, then she smiled. "No," she said at length, "I guess not. Bertha, Prudence," she called, "come meet Betty." 

"I'm new in town," said Beetlejuice, shaking hands with the girls. 

"Hey! A new girl!" shouted a boy, and all the boys came over. 

"This is Betty," said Lydia. 

"Woah, Betty," remarked one of the boys. "You know, 'Betty' is slang for a hot chick." 

"Oh, I know," said Beetlejuice. "Speaking of hot, I shouldn't have eaten those Ragin' Cajun Stinkbugs for lunch." And he belched a tongue of flame which melted the punchcup carousel. 

"Woah!" shouted a boy. "She's totally gross!" 

The boys congratulated Lydia on having such a cool friend before going back to devouring the hors d'ouvres. 

"Well I have to admit," said Lydia, "it's not such a bad party." 

"Psst," said Beetlejuice, leaning in close, "I really need you to send me back to the Neitherworld. I have some...stuff I gotta do." 

"Hey Lydia," said Bertha suddenly. "What have you got there?" 

Lydia looked down. "Oh," she said, "just some photographs I took today." 

"You mean," intoned Miss Shannon, striding over, "when you were playing hooky from my class?" 

Lydia fidgeted. "Well..." she faltered. 

"Give them to me," said Miss Shannon. "I want to see what you find so much more interesting than my lectures." Lydia handed over the stack. 

Miss Shannon began flipping through them. "Oh my," she said at one. "Oh...my goodness," she said to another. "Oh my goodness gracious." 

Beetlejuice elbowed Lydia. "They're a hit," he enthused. 

"Oh!" Miss Shannon exclaimed suddenly upon reaching the last photo. "Oh!" She clutched her necklace and leaned on the back of a chair. Everyone in the room stopped talking to look at her curiously. 

"Miss Shannon?" asked Delia, coming out of the kitchen. "Is everything all right?" 

"This - This - " Miss Shannon seemed incapable of speech. 

"Can I get you anything?" Delia went on. "A glass of water?" 

Miss Shannon shook her head. "This...This is...incredible!" she managed at last. "Lydia Deetz, you are a genius!" 

Lydia staggered. 

Delia looked at the photograph, which Lydia could now see was the one of the attacking Sandworm. "Oh my," she said. "It certainly is lifelike." 

"Yes!" exclaimed Miss Shannon. "Why, it's just the sort of thing the school needs in the Art Department! Lydia, would you consider parting with this?" 

Lydia didn't have to consider. "Of course, Miss Shannon," she said. 

"Here." Miss Shannon reached into her purse and pulled out a wad of cash. "I never use a bank account," she hastily explained to the room. "Take this," she said, pressing a substantial amount of money into Lydia's palm. "I hope you feel it is enough." 

Delia beamed. "Oh, Lydia!" she cried. "You are a professional artist now!" 

"Thank you mother," said Lydia. 

Delia beamed again at being called 'mother'. 

"Now," said Miss Shannon. "Let us get back to the party!" 

The attention once again away from them, Lydia turned back to Beetlejuice. "Well," she said. "Your tour has made me some money." 

"Well that's great, babes." 

"I want you to have it." 

Beetlejuice blinked. "Come again?" 

Lydia stuffed the money into the ghost's uniform pocket. "Thanks for showing me around," she said. "Next time I need an escort, I'll call you." 

Beetlejuice let himself be guided around a corner into the hallway. "Lydia," he said, "I've been meaning to uh...to say that I'm..." 

Lydia just smiled. "I know," she said, then whispered, "Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice." 

The ghost vanished. 

And Lydia went back to her party. 


End file.
